I am currently orchestrating the worst move in my history of very successful moves (on behalf of both myself and others) and it is driving me crazy. I find myself packing boxes in such a random, unplanned way that I literally cringe when I tape them shut, so distressed am I at how awfully disjointed are the contents. And no one, not a single person, feels my pain, because the vast majority of people out there (including the husband) HATE moving and feel like this every single time, whilst I generally find the whole experience cleansing and cathartic and deeply satisfying. But not this time. Note to self: never again move while 6 months pregnant...and teaching full-time...and getting up for 6am Bible study classes. Not a pretty picture all around.
That being said, the moving truck and the unwitting volunteers (they have no idea about the books, people, because they think I am joking when I explain the situation. Silly rabbits!) from church arrive tomorrow, so we will be done by then or suffer the consequences (such as nowhere to sleep and no more electricity in our old apartment).
So, we will be ensconced in our new digs soon (telephone stays the same, by the way) to start the practice of unpacking, which will be just as aggravating to me because I will see my horrible handiwork ONCE AGAIN...but I know, this is just my own private hell, with which I must deal on my own. Sigh....
Luckily, Baby X has been well behaved of late, constant kicking aside. But man, do I get tired easily! Again, not very helpful for the packing. But kicking is good news, so we are very pleased!